


Anniversary

by Okadiah



Category: Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Blindness, F/M, JediFest, a touch bittersweet, decemberdrabbleprompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-30
Updated: 2017-12-30
Packaged: 2019-02-24 07:14:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13208661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Okadiah/pseuds/Okadiah
Summary: Written for JediFest's December Drabble Exchange for the prompt: Kanan Jarrus "Blind"Kanan reminisces about his first year blind, and everything he's gained and everything he has missed.





	Anniversary

**Author's Note:**

> Ah, this one's tender and a little bittersweet but I really like what came out of the prompt.
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

“It’s today, isn’t it?” Hera asked quietly.

“That’s right,” Kanan said with the faintest hint of a chuckle. “One year since I lost my pretty blues.”

Hera hummed and pulled him into her arms, and he settled there with a soft sigh. Even knowing the day was coming, waking up this morning had ached. Perhaps he’d hoped for the impossible. That just maybe his blinding had all been a dream, or the Force would’ve worked a miracle, and he’d have woken up this morning with his sight returned and the world bright with vibrancy and vitality and light.

All the things he knew he was slowly forgetting.

It hadn’t happened. The darkness was the same as it always was.

It wasn’t that he hated the blindness. Well, in the beginning he had — no doubt about that. He’d been lost in the endless matte-black, stubbing his toes, running into walls, listening to all the concerned whispers and feeling all the pity, sympathy, and sorrow radiate in the Force. It was stifling. Maddening. He’d felt so useless.

But time had given him perspective and allowed the wound to heal both physically and emotionally. In truth and the weirdest way possible, he thought he saw better now than he ever had. Instead of getting caught up in the physical details, he saw straight to the heart of a matter. He saw deeper. In a lot of ways Kanan felt he was more perceptive than most of the people around him, now that he was in tune with the Force and depended on it like he did.

That didn’t mean he didn’t miss sight fiercely. Desperately.

There were lots of things he missed. Ezra’s goofy grin. Sabine’s ever-changing color. Zeb’s gruff but expressive expressions. The blur and gleam of Chopper’s chassis as the droid raced at him. The brilliant blue blaze of Kanan’s own lightsaber.

But more than anything, he missed Hera. Missed green. Missed the way her eyes lit up when she was flying. Missed all those tiny tells her face gave that he’d spent years learning.

He missed seeing the love written so clearly there.

“I miss you,” Kanan told her, unable to hold back the longing in his voice as he searched the darkness for her light. “I miss you so much.”

A soft chuckle permeated the thick shadows of his sight, and the familiar press of Hera’s brow was warm against his own.

“My silly Jedi,” Hera said gently, a smile in her voice. “I’m right here. You may not be able to see me, but I’ve never left.”

Kanan sighed as his heart filled to the brim with warmth. Then he smiled.

“I know,” he whispered, holding her tight. “I know.”


End file.
